Inconclusive Evidence
by Mottsnave
Summary: Bulstrode tried to call the meeting to order. Pansy's voice rang out above the rest: "who died and put you in charge?" That was the question, wasn't it? Shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts, Slytherin House tries to come to an important conclusion.
1. Chapter 1: Millicent Calls a Meeting

Chapter 1: Millicent Calls a Meeting

* * *

"Order! I call the meeting to order!"

Nobody was listening. Bulstrode cast a _Sonorous_ and tried again. "_Order!_"

In the slight lull that followed, Pansy's voice rang out above the rest: "Who died and put you in charge?"

That was the question, wasn't it? Bulstrode gave a tight smile. There was dead quiet now; she ought to thank Pansy for the favor, even though it was obviously not what she intended. Pansy had developed quite the talent for getting the opposite of what she wanted whenever she opened her mouth, but clearly she still hadn't learned her lesson.

Zabini stood up in the breach. "Point of Inquiry: can you make Pantsy shut up?"

There were some giggles and murmurs of agreement at that. Since her big mouth had gotten the whole House smeared, _Pantsy_ had been stripped of all rank and seventh-year privileges and returned to her old hated nickname, by mutual agreement of the rest of the House. And really, it was her own fault, thought Bulstrode, she ought to have known you can't expect the other Houses to listen to _reason_.

It wasn't a proper Point of Inquiry at all, Zabini was always useless at protocol, but a good idea was a good idea. "I move that Pantsy shut up. Is there a second?"

"Seconded!" said Zabini immediately.

"The floor is opened, closed."

"Wait a minute!" yelped Pansy.

"All those in favor?" said Bulstrode.

"AYE!"

"Opposed?"

"_Nay!_" said Pansy, alone.

"Motion passes."

"No it doesn't!"

"Yes, it does. Shut up, Pantsy, or I'll eject you from the meeting." Inside the meeting meant a locked door, the sanctuary of the room of the Hog's Head that they had rented, almost all the other Slytherins, whatever snacks they could buy off Aberforth, and the temporary safety Bulstrode had managed to buy off the Ministry. Outside the meeting there could be members of the other Houses and Aurors. Pansy finally shut up.

Bulstrode hoped that the Aurors would stay at bay; there was really no telling how much time they had. The current sanctuary had been hard enough to buy in the first place. In fact, everything had started to fall apart at McGonagall's announcement that the Headmaster was gone. She and the other eyes had no one to report to, and then Pantsy had opened her stupid mouth. From then on, they were all out of it. Millicent and the other eyes in the house had held a brief whispered conference, but without the least idea of where the Headmaster had gone, there was nothing they could do but follow his general instruction of keeping the other students safe.

In the end, she left Theo Nott guarding the door of the back room of the Hog's Head that they had finally managed to secure for the rest of the House, and headed back for the school. Sluggy had long since gone charging off somewhere, like a fool. By now, the Headmaster _must_ have everything under control again.

Halfway there she realized that it had been much, much worse than she thought. There were unmoving shapes on the grass that she couldn't look at, part of the walls were down and there was smoke everywhere.

By the time she reached the entrance hall, none of it seemed real anymore. Bulstrode almost missed Sara Fawcett, the eye from Ravenclaw, sitting against the wall and looking ashen. Finally, someone who could talk to her and would know what was going on.

"What's happening?"

"You-Know-Who is dead, it's over."

"Where's the Headmaster?"

"He's dead," she said woodenly. "He killed him, he just said it in front of everyone."

It couldn't be real, none of it. Well, what could she do but just play along until she found out where everything really stood? If she was playing along, then she could stop looking for the Headmaster and proceed to the next step of his instructions: "if I am unavailable at or after his fall, find a member of the Order and pass along my information immediately."

She left Fawcett without another word and entered the great hall. The first members of the Order that she saw were no help at all, as they were lying among the dead. She hurried past them; surely there was someone still standing. _There_: she just caught a glimpse behind a rank of Aurors: Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Getting to him proved difficult. There was no break in the rank of Aurors, and he appeared to be in furious conversation with someone behind them. "Let me through," she tried, but was only rewarded with a "stand clear." She didn't even rate a 'Miss,' and the color of her robe probably didn't help. Should have remembered to transfigure it. Too late now.

She tried to get through again at another part of the rank, but it was no use and there were so many wands being held ready. This was ridiculous; the Headmaster said 'immediately,' and immediately was quickly slipping away. She could almost hear his voice: "_not_ an adequate effort, Miss Bulstrode."

It wasn't really something she should announce in public, but at the moment she could think of no other way to get through to them. She began to recite all the Order passwords that the Headmaster knew, oldest to the newest: "Bumlocus, Uncora, Llewellan, Satay - "

A dark hand reached from between the Auror ranks, seized her shoulder, and pulled her through. Everything happened very quickly then. Her wand was plucked out of her hand, a _Silencio_ applied, she was turned this way and that, scanned and relieved of her bag.

When she was finally turned to face Shacklebolt and the _Silencio_ removed, she came out of it with a gasp. McGonagall was there as well, she saw, looking as surprised as she was.

"Where did you get those passwords?" asked Shacklebolt in a low voice.

Damn, if she started answering questions now, she'd be tied up for ages; she just knew it. She ignored the question. "The Headmaster gave me information to pass to you immediately if he should be unavailable –"

"He what?" said McGonagall. She looked as angry as Millicent had ever seen her, angrier than when she threw out the House.

"What information?" asked Shacklebolt, more calmly.

"In my bag."

The Auror holding it turned it over at a nod from Shacklebolt. Millicent fished out her crumpled first-year parchments from the bottom. Shacklebolt looked at the stained parchments with distaste.

"In the corrections, sir. Coordinates and passwords for Snatcher outposts and muggleborn holding facilities. He said you're to go in right away in case they start killing captives. He said to get them out." She had imagined herself controlled and confident passing along the information entrusted to her, but now, in the center of all that scrutiny, she could barely get the words out without stammering.

Shacklebolt was scanning the pages intently. "Beckwith! Get this copied and distributed. I want four squads on this, now!"

Millicent wanted to hear more, but she was already being hustled away. After being yanked through two apparitions and a floo, she was left, locked in a bare room, _somewhere_. At least they had left her water and food.

There she was, in calm, silent, _nothing_ for the next eight hours. It didn't help that she kept imaging whole teams of Aurors reading her terrible first-year essays with the altered corrections. All her stupid spelling mistakes, and then his notes in the margins: _It would be better to eliminate all unnecessary padding and replace it with actual content at 1605 Willoughby Lane, Clatteringshaws, speak 'Dido' to enter…_

She had a cry once, much against her will. _It's just because you don't know what's happening,_ she told herself. At least there was no one around to see, but she wished that her eyes and nose weren't red when Shacklebolt finally came in. There were other Aurors with him, one bearing tea. The tea was welcome, though she had to work to keep from gulping it down.

Shacklebolt started in on the questions straight away, as she expected. _How had the Headmaster chosen her? How had they passed information? How had she watched the other students? Was there any more information for the Order?_

There wasn't much, really, and the job of keeping students away from the Carrows' scrutiny was all over. It hardly seemed relevant. The questions were easier than she thought until, "and who are the others, Miss Bulstrode?"

"Others?"

Shacklebolt gave her a hard look. "Other 'eyes.' It wasn't just you, was it?"

"Uh, don't know."

Shacklebolt's look got harder.

"Don't know if I can tell you that. _He_ didn't tell me to pass it on."

"We aren't going to play games, Miss Bulstrode. If he gave information to anyone else, we need to know it, now."

"He didn't. They were just to help communicate and watch out for the other students. He didn't give them anything like _that_." She poked at the abused essays on the table between them.

"Why not?"

This was getting embarrassing. Well, more embarrassing. "Got some troll in the family. Legilimency doesn't work much when you're not all human."

"I see. Nevertheless, we will need the names of the other eyes."

"Need to talk to them first."

"Why?"

"They're not all… in one House. Could be bad for one to be seen getting pulled in for questioning. Could be bad for another to be seen getting _thanked_ or something. I talk to them first, then they can come in quietly. Then it's up to them what gets seen." She felt a tad breathless after that; it was the longest speech she'd made since the oral portion of the O.W.L.s.

"I see. In terms of your own House, it won't make much difference. They're all holed up in that pub, yes? Everyone who has family involved will be brought in for questioning."

"I need to talk to them first, and they have to have a chance to talk to their families."

"They don't _have_ to have anything, Miss Bulstrode. They _may _have a floo call to their parents or guardians, under supervision, and you may have a few hours to speak with them. But no one will leave the pub and they will be brought in after that. If anyone has the Mark, they will be arrested."

It was probably the best they could get, as things stood now. Bulstrode nodded reluctantly.

"I'll give you some cards. Whoever is one of the eyes can present it when they are brought in. They will be brought to me. We will keep it quiet. How many do you need?"

"Five."

"I expect to see you shortly, Miss. Bulstrode. I will have you brought in myself if I don't see all of the eyes in the next twenty-four hours."

"Yes, sir."

When she arrived back at the pub, she saw that the rest of the house was on the edge of… something. At least Theo had made himself useful by organizing some of the younger students to watch the door and others to pool money to buy food from the pub. That seemed to have gone well enough; there were only the soggy ends of chips in curry sauce left by the time Bulstrode arrived.

Other than that, however, the mood was not good. Someone had found an early-breaking edition of the _Daily Prophet_, and the lists of the dead, wounded and arrested had struck far too close to home.

"I've been hoping for some good news, Mil," said Theo as she passed him his card. "The paper says he's dead."

"That's what Fawcett said, but _I_ don't know."

"Listen, Mil. Something's going on in here. I keep seeing Aberforth tiptoeing around with bowls of soup and candy, and he's just terrible at sneaking, I think –"

"Don't care about soup, Theo. I've got to meet with the others."

As she walked through the crowd to slip a card to Daphne and Graham, she saw that Goyle had turned up from somewhere while she was gone, and was sitting against the wall with his head on his knees. His dad's name was in the paper, and it wasn't under 'Arrests.' Some of the kids were sobbing quietly in a corner. Fine, but Bulstrode didn't like the angry looks on some of the other faces. There was nothing else she could do about the eyes, for now; the three in the house had their cards, and she couldn't get to the two who were in other houses at the moment. Anyway, the situation here was more urgent.

Ever since third year, it was clear to her that the main job of Slytherin head of house was to keep the Slytherins occupied at all times. Professor Snape had a multifaceted approach of games, contests, assignments, extra lessons and impossibly high work standards that kept most of the house too busy to think of giving him trouble. But now it was clear that they were about to slide into a dangerous state of angry boredom unless someone did something _at once_.

"I call a House meeting!"

The passing of the motion against Pansy had lifted the mood of the room a fraction. Perhaps it was that they no longer had to listen to Pansy, or perhaps it was that something, _anything_, was finally happening. Now that the attention of the House was focused, it was time to bring them back to the agenda item that had caused the uproar in the first place.

"Has everybody seen the evidence in favor?" Bulstrode didn't really like speaking to a crowd, but it was marginally better now that they were paying attention.

"Yeah," said Harper, giving the mangled _Prophet_ a push with his foot. "Don't know why we care, though."

"'Cause he's _ours_. We don't get another like that," said Daphne, angrily. There were some noises of agreement, particularly from the upper years.

"Floor is open to present evidence against –"

Quentin Bole was up before she finished. "No _body_," he declared.

"Paper says the Eaters took it," Blaise pointed out.

"Protocol, Zabini!"

"Point of Information," said Astoria, demonstrating the protocol, "Why would anyone drag around a body if they were running?"

"The paper does not explain that, which is why it is evidence against," said Bole.

"Point of Information," said Tracey, "did they name who took him… it?" She hadn't read the paper herself; she had been too intent on worrying over her graduate school applications.

"No, it's nothing but pure speculation. The paper presents no solid explanation for the lack of a body, just that some unnamed Eaters must have taken it."

"Why doesn't someone just _ask_ them?" said Terry Higgs. Second-years always thought they were too good for protocol.

"You're out of order," said Bulstrode, "unless you propose the motion that someone go and ask them…"

"Uh, yeah, that's what I propose."

"The House will consider the motion: someone, _Goyle_, will go and ask all available Eaters if they took the body," said Bulstrode.

"What?" Goyle raised his head marginally off his knees. His voice was slurred and muffled, as if he were half-asleep.

"Greg, once you're arrested –"

"_No!_"

"Greg, you're getting arrested in a few hours. Once you're in, you can ask around."

His head back on his knees, his shoulders shook for a moment, but then the head moved in what might have been a nod.

"Once he's in, how does he get the information out?" asked Higgs.

"I'll visit," said Theo. Bulstrode had seen his father's name in the paper too, under arrests. He wouldn't just be visiting Goyle.

The motion passed easily without a 'nay.' Bole was ready with more evidence when Bulstrode reopened the floor.

"No portrait."

"Point of Information; the paper says it's because he left his post, so he was no longer Headmaster," Astoria pointed out.

Daphne jumped up before Bole could answer. "That's bollocks. Only the Board of Governors can remove an acting Headmaster after a formal hearing on misconduct. If a Headmaster wants to step down he has to submit a resignation in person or in writing to the Board. A professor can't just decide that a Headmaster has abdicated in absentia. It doesn't make sense: otherwise anyone who didn't like their contract could take over whenever they wanted." She sat with a smile that probably came as much from shutting down her sister as getting to show off her legal knowledge. Daphne had also apparently shut down any further points on Bole's evidence.

"Any more evidence?"

Sully Urquhart got up slowly, brushing off his trousers. There were a few groans. Once Urquhart started, he didn't stop until you had a whole lecture. He picked up the paper and refolded it neatly.

"Get on with it!" someone called.

Sully gave a deliberate cough and began. "To look for evidence for or against, how could we do better than to examine the testimony of the man of the hour, Mr. Harry Potter himself?"

There was a bit of hissing at that. Sully went on, undiscouraged. "Who would expect that his testimony presents such perfect evidence _against?_" Sully loved dramatic pronouncements, but the house was mostly immune to them by now.

"By his own words, this _Potter_ simply watched him die without making any attempt to save or aid him. Note that, honorable members of the House!"

"Noted," said Harper dryly.

"And yet, in the same article, this same Potter admits that the Headmaster had, on more than one occasion, personally saved his life. His very words: 'I owe him my life.' There was a life debt between them, at least one, which Potter deliberately did not pay back."

"Point of Information," interrupted Astoria, "what if the Headmaster wasn't _trying_ to save his life but just, uh, happened to whilst he was doing something else?" She looked hopeful.

"A life debt does not depend on the intentions of the creditor, but simply on the acknowledgement of the debtor that his life has been saved, and Potter clearly and publicly acknowledged that."

"Point of Information; how is that evidence of anything except that Potter's an arse?" asked Pritchard.

"What are the consequences for failing to pay a life debt?" said Sully.

"It's not a quiz, Sully. Get on," warned Bulstrode.

"The consequences vary by the severity of the failure to pay, but they usually include swift and severe nausea and vomiting, fever and headaches, followed by insomnia, depression and remorse lasting several weeks. In short, the body that owes the debt enters into revolt against the person who failed to pay it. And yet we see that this Potter is up and about and giving statements to reporters."

Sully's information was unquestionably good; contracts, oaths and debts were his specialty, as many of the lower years had found out the hard way.

"I therefore propose the motion: Potter should be sought out and observed firsthand to see if he is suffering any effects of a neglected life debt."

"Point of Information," said Daphne, "who?"

Bulstrode stepped in. "He dropped out. Won't recognize a first-year."

"Oh, Baby…" called Zabini.

The aforementioned 'Baby' looked up from where she was sitting among the rest of the first-years and blinked her large brown eyes innocently.

"That will do nicely, Baby," said Zabini.

"The House will consider the motion: Baby will take any steps necessary to observe Potter at close quarters and determine the state of his health. She will report this information back to the House."

Zabini gave Bulstrode a "seconded," and the motion sailed through. No one could think of any more evidence to present after that. Everything had gone smoothly so far, but Bulstrode knew the next item on the agenda would not pass so easily.

"The _Prophet_'s crap. We need better evidence of what happened. I propose the motion: all honorable members of the House, with the exception of those who have urgent family commitments, will go back to the school and gather information under cover of helping the restoration."

In the silence that greeted that proposal, Pansy's voice rang out. "They'll murder us!"

"Shut up, Pantsy!" But there were no murmurs of agreement this time.

"We'll all follow first-year protocol: everyone will stay in groups of three to five at all times and watch for threats." There was silence to that too. Bulstrode crossed her arms. "Anyone who doesn't think they can _manage_ will come up with an urgent family commitment! Or you can let the Ministry come up with one for you." There were a few nods. Finally they were getting the idea.

The vote was thirty-eight in favor, twenty against. Bulstrode expected at least twenty urgent family commitments. "We will adjourn for one week."

They were still cramped in a shabby room, with Aurors and who knew what hostile forces outside, but now there were a few secret smiles being traded. They had assignments and a _plan_.

* * *

A/N: This will be a two-shot story. The second, final chapter is already completed and will be posted in a few days or early next week once I finish typing and proofreading.

You could consider this story as an accompaniment to my story The New Skin, taking place concurrently with the first couple of chapters, but it could easily stand on its own as well.

Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know what you think. I will respond to every review that I can.


	2. Chapter 2: Assignments

Chapter 2: Assignments

The first problem, Baby saw, was that she couldn't allow herself to be collected by family and whisked away, like so many of the first-years, and she couldn't be brought in for Ministry questioning, which would have been a terrible waste of time. The Bull had informed them that anyone with Eater family would be brought in as soon as they left the sanctuary of the room. She did have a cousin who'd joined last year, but she didn't think he'd been marked. Did that count? She couldn't risk it; she'd simply have to be someone else. The problem was she couldn't be sure who in the House wouldn't be questioned.

Except for Jenny. The Headmaster had visited the House at the beginning of the year and announced that all Slytherins were purebloods and there would be _no further discussion_, was that clear? The lack of discussion clearly referred to Slytherins like Jenny, who Baby had caught watching the others to tell how to hold her wand, who didn't pronounce 'knut' properly, and who suppressed a giggle every time someone said 'Hogwarts' during the first week. Certainly she was pure: pure _something_, but also purely unlikely to be questioned by the Ministry.

"Jenn," Baby caught her in the press waiting to leave the room, "I need to switch with you."

"What for?"

"I'm on assignment, remember? I don't want to waste time talking to the Ministry."

"They're going to question _you_, Baby?"

"Probably not, but I don't want them to even think about it. I've got a cousin, but he didn't even do anything."

"Well, I don't want to talk to them either."

"You won't have to, probably."

"I just want to go home. This isn't even my fight!"

"Do it for the House."

"Pfft. I'll do it for forty galleons."

"Forty!"

By the time Baby and Jenny reached the door, the price had been settled at thirty galleons and they had exchanged names, bags and badges. As she had expected, 'Jennifer Prior' wasn't on any Auror's list, nobody took her wand, and there was no heavy hand on her shoulder steering her to the floo.

Baby stepped out into the late-afternoon sun with a sigh of relief. Other snakes who had made it through were gathering into small groups and heading reluctantly for the castle. She attached herself to Tim Harper, 'the Lieutenant' Phelps, and Dodger Mingus.

"Why don't you stick with your own, firstie?" said Harper

"There's not enough out yet. Anyway, I'm only going with you as far as the castle. I'm on assignment, right?

"_Special_, aren't you?"

Dodger pulled her next to him as they walked. "Ignore him. He's jealous because he's never had one. Speaking of which, you've got quite a tricky assignment, haven't you? You might find it very useful to have a certain tower password, don't you think?"

It was true, she hadn't lit on any idea for getting into Gryffindor tower, and Potter was probably there. She tried not to look interested.

"It really is the duty of all honorable members of the House to aid and assist in any way we can for such an important assignment. That's why I'll let you have that password."

_Let you have?_ That was begging for a condition. "How much?"

The Lieutenant laughed. "The Babe catches on fast, for a firstie."

"Eighteen galleons."

"What? You sold the Puff den password to the Puker for eight."

"That was a month ago, Baby. Times have changed. Everyone's got an eye on security now. Besides, Puff is easy, so it's cheaper. You need the Gryff password. I've got it. It's called supply and demand, sweetheart."

"I don't need it."

"Is that what passes for bargaining with the firsties?"

"I'm not bargaining; I don't need it: it's no good. The Gryffs will have changed their password by now."

"You give them a lot of credit."

"Forget it, I'll find my own way in." Getting an assignment was supposed to be an honor, but Baby had never expected that it took so much ready cash, and Jenny had already mostly cleaned her out.

They had reached the entrance. "Good luck, Baby," said the Dodger, "you'll need it. When you change your mind you'll find us around here somewhere… _restoring_ something."

The entry hall was deserted, but it was still full. The floor was covered with broken glass and scattered House hourglass beads. The stair railings were down and there were puddles and smears of _something_ on the walls and floor. Broken furniture, a torn tapestry, someone's bookbag, a lone shoe… a bookbag? _That_ might be a possibility. Baby scooped it up and tucked herself under the stairs, out of sight.

Aside from the usual textbooks and a small pouch of tampons there was a course planner. 'Cath Briggs' was written on the inside cover along with a sticker of the Hufflepuff arms. The schedule stuck in the front of the planner showed that she was a fifth-year, and the heart drawn around the name 'Graham' showed that she had bad taste. Baby would have to give Pritchard a hard time about that.

Still, the bag was a possibility. Hufflepuff was good; the Gryffs didn't pay much attention to Puffs. She used a simple color transfiguration on her robes to turn the lining yellow and she took off Jenny's badge. Daphne had taught all the first-years the transfiguration that year, and it was dead useful. Well, it was time to start searching for her big sister, Cath.

* * *

Someone had to come out sometime. Her eyes stung, her nose was runny, her handkerchief was getting disgusting and she was sick of the hiccup spell she had cast on herself. She must look a mess. Well, that was the idea, anyhow.

Footsteps! Baby darted to the other end of the corridor, turned and started wandering back, sniffling. There were several voices coming, somehow excited and tired at once. Baby didn't look up, but concentrated on her tears and hugging the abandoned bookbag to her chest.

"Hey, hey!" A hand touched her shoulder. She started back and leaned against the wall. "Are you all right?" She tried to catch her breath and hiccupped.

They were three Gryffindors, about fourth-year or so, two girls and a boy.

"Hey, what's wrong? You're all right, aren't you? It's all over now."

Baby looked up and blinked, letting more tears spill.

"Oh, you're just a firstie. I thought you all got evacuated." The girl was patting her on the shoulder kindly.

"I was looking for my sister… and then I went back for her bag… and then everyone was gone, so I hid… and my mum and dad already came and picked her up… but now there's a curfew and they can't come back 'til tomorrow… and the den is all dark, and there's no one there…" she said between gasps.

"Oi, slow down and breathe! It's not so bad now. Your parents will come get you tomorrow, won't they?"

Baby nodded tremulously and sniffed.

"Why don't you come in with us? There's plenty of people around and we've got a fire going. Have you had anything to eat?"

Baby shook her head. The chips and curry sauce had raisins in and she _hated_ raisins in curry sauce.

"Well, that's the problem!" said the boy. "You'll be all right as soon as you've had some dinner."

They pulled her over to the portrait and said "fortitude." Baby noted that; it could be worth eighteen galleons.

The scene inside reminded her of the back room in the Hog's Head. The Gryffindors were gathered into small groups around the fire and on the scattered couches. The same edition of the _Prophet_ that had caused distress among the Slytherins was being picked over and passed around, leaving tears or angry words in its wake.

The three who had brought her in drew her over to a platter of sandwiches. "Here, eat this right away. What's your name?"

"Barbara Briggs."

"I'm Vickie, and this is Andrew and Demelza."

They all sat on the rug near some other Gryffs and tucked into their sandwiches. One of the boys nearby was telling jokes to pass the time. Baby looked around the room as best as she could. Was that Potter over by the fire? She had never seen him in person, but there had been a few 'wanted' pictures in the paper over the year.

"So, the Wizengamot tells a Ministry clerk to have a garden put in the Ministry courtyard, and he puts out adverts for the job. A Hufflepuff, a Ravenclaw, and a Slytherin turn up for the interview," said the boy next to her. "The Puff comes up first and says, 'I'll put in a lovely garden for you, with pumpkins and tomatoes and flowers and everything you like. It will be two-hundred galleons.' And then the Claw comes up and says, 'I'll plan the perfect garden for you. I'll choose all the plants carefully so there'll be something blooming year-round. It'll be three-hundred galleons.' And the clerk thinks, 'both these sound good, but let's hear this last bloke.' And when the snake steps up, he just says, 'it'll be six-hundred galleons.' 'Six-hundred galleons, but what kind of garden is it?' And the snake says, 'what do you care? Listen, it's two-hundred for you, two-hundred for me, and two-hundred for the Puff to plant it.'"

The Gryffindors laughed over their sandwiches. That was a pretty good one actually, Baby thought, a lot better than the one with the Gryff, the Claw, and the Slytherin in the lifeboat, or all the ones about 'getting some tail.'

"It's your turn," said the boy next to her, turning to Baby.

"That's OK," said Vickie, "we can skip…"

"What, said the boy, "don't Hufflepuffs know any jokes?"

""Don't be mean, Jack."

"I've got one," said Baby, blinking up at them. The redcap one should work, since it didn't have a Puff in it.

"A Gryffindor, a Ravenclaw and a Slytherin were walking in the Forbidden Forest and they got caught by a troop of redcaps. The redcap chief says, 'all right, humans, we're going to kill you, drain your blood for our caps, and make your skins into our blood bags. But we're not mean; you get to choose how you die.'"

"Yeah, that's not mean at all," said Jack.

"So the Gryffindor jumps up and grabs a big stick and says, 'I'll fight to the death!' and he goes at it, but there's too many redcaps and they kill him. They take off his skin – _shlooop_ –"

"_Ew!_" said Demelza.

"- and they fill the skin up with blood. And then it's the Claw's turn, and he says, 'the best way to go is the quickest way. One of you give me a knife.' So they give him a knife and he cuts his neck like _that_, they take off his skin – _shlooop!_" A few of the Gryffindors joined in on the sound-effect.

"- And they fill it up with blood. And then it's the Slytherin's turn, and he says, 'do you have a fork?' and they're all: '_a fork?_' But they give him one, and he stabs himself all over, like _that_, and says, 'who's going to be a bag now?'"

There was laughter, and Demelza said, "I didn't know Puffs were so _gross!_"

Maybe that hadn't been the best joke to tell after all, but all the ones she knew with Puffs in them were all about how stupid they were, and that wouldn't do at all.

The round had moved on to Vickie, and Baby was done with her sandwich. It was time to start thinking about getting closer to her objective. There was a pitcher of juice on the table by the sandwiches, that was a start. She left her 'sister's' bag and got herself a cup of juice, then started drifting over to the fire.

There was Potter, sitting on a squashy couch and leaning forward, talking to _that_ one, her picture had been in the papers too. Oh yes, it was the mud-, it was the muggleborn one. Baby sighed to herself. First you had to train yourself to use the one word to please the Carrows, and now she supposed they'd all have to train to use the other one instead.

She edged in, and saw that she could get closer still by pretending to warm up by the fire. That was it; she gave a little shiver and lingered by the firescreen with her hands outstretched.

"You're a Hufflepuff, aren't you? What are you doing here?" said Granger. There might have been challenge in the voice, but it was mostly overridden by weariness. The girl was looking at her curiously.

"Vickie said I could stay; the den's kind of a wreck."

"Oh, well, I suppose the House thing doesn't matter much anymore now."

"It doesn't matter as long as you're not one of _them_," said someone on the other couch. Well, as she was just as a Hufflepuff, there was no problem, of course.

Baby looked up at Potter and Granger and blinked. "Are you _them?_" she asked breathlessly.

Granger suppressed a little groan, but Potter simply answered, "yes."

"Sorry," said Baby, still looking up, wide-eyed, "you're probably sick of talking about it… but are you all right?"

"We're perfectly fine. Everyone's a bit tired, that's all," said Granger briskly. It was clearly a brush-off, but Baby decided that as a Puff she could credibly pretend not to notice.

"It must have been terrible. Whenever I get scared about something, I get ill, really _ill_, my stomach hurts something awful. My sister says it's just nerves, but it feels like I'm really sick and I'm going to throw up. I even did, once. But _you_ didn't get sick, did you?"

"No, I didn't," said Potter. He didn't look sick either, at least not how Sully described it, but he did seem distant, almost as if he were in a dream.

"You're so _brave_," she said.

Potter shook his head deprecatingly, but he smiled.

* * *

Theo had been pulled aside for questioning, of course. He would have expected it even without Millie's announcement. After all, his own father was a follower from the first. Luckily for Theo, the elder Nott had long ago decided that his son was too weak-willed and incompetent for the rigors of the Cause. Well, of course it wasn't exactly luck, since he had been carefully practicing his incompetency since the age of nine.

It hadn't been too difficult; his father generally saw what he wanted to see, so once the idea was planted everything fed into it. Any poor marks at school confirmed his son's limitations, and any good marks confirmed the lax standards that Hogwarts had adopted under Dumbledore. Theo suspected that if he ever changed his mind and tried to impress his father he would have been doomed to failure. As it was, he had the unique position of a Death Eater's son who had not been forced or indoctrinated into following the cause himself.

Once he stepped through the floo into the Ministry, he gave his card to the Auror who was escorting him. Everything got fast then as he was hustled through a warren of corridors and into a holding room. Shacklebolt arrived half an hour later.

"Mr. Nott, where did you get this card?"

"From Miss Bulstrode, sir."

"Why did she give it to you?"

"I'm one of the eyes, like her."

"And who are the others?"

"Don't know."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, I just reported to Mill-, Miss Bulstrode or the Headmaster. No one else," he lied.

"Hmm. And what were you doing, exactly?"

"Keeping an eye on the other students, particularly the ones in the resistance, keeping them out of the way of the Carrows, well, as much as possible."

"Just what were your instructions if you had been caught?"

"If that happened, then it was all an attempt to impress my father. The Headmaster was training me by having me gather information on the resistance so we could take them down. Keeping the Carrows out was just to keep all the glory for ourselves."

"Very convincing story. In fact, it occurs to me that you could have easily used that story if the battle had one another way."

"Yes, I could."

"So why should I believe the 'eye' story over that explanation?"

Theo shrugged. "I haven't got a Mark, and you don't have a reason to arrest me for anything else. So why should I even come to you and turn over that card? It doesn't get me anywhere. I might just as well have lost the card on the way in and never brought it up."

"Hmm."

"_Are_ you going to arrest me?"

"Should I?"

"No," said Theo quickly. Was Shacklebolt softening a bit? "Is it true that you didn't find his body?"

Shacklebolt winced. "You got that from the _Prophet_ no doubt. You should know better than to pay attention to the _Prophet_."

"Yeah. _Was_ there a body?"

"I'm sorry to say that I can't answer that, Mr. Nott." He didn't sound very sorry.

"Can I see my father now?"

Now he did sound sorry. "We aren't allowing visitors at present, but procedures should be normalized in a few days."

It was clear that he wasn't going to get any more information from Shacklebolt, particularly as he wouldn't answer any more questions himself, but just grilled Theo about his father for another hour.

When he was finally released he headed back to the Hog's Head. He really had no desire to go home, and he might as well have a go at following Aberforth around and see what he got up to with his soup deliveries. There wasn't much else to keep him busy until the Ministry would allow visitors.

* * *

It was all a bit moot now, Theo thought, since he already knew the answer. Still, an assignment was an assignment.

The intervening three days had not treated Greg well. He sat with a thump across from Theo in the DMLE visiting room.

"Well?"

"No, nobody touched any damn bodies. Mostly they hadn't heard about it 'til I asked them. And now they all want to know why _I_ would want to know. Everybody's saying he's a bloody traitor." Greg almost spat the last word.

Theo cast a glance significantly up towards the Auror by the door, watching them.

"No, that's not what everybody's saying. What _everybody_ is saying is that you and all the rest in here are the traitors, and that _he_ was a member of the Order of the Phoenix all along."

"That's not fair, _he_ was the one who pretended… wait!" The House always said of Greg that the wheels were bound to turn once you got him pointed downhill and gave him a push. It seemed that the wheels were finally turning now. "You knew! You knew all the time! Damn you!"

Theo shrugged. Greg face reddened and he half stood, but then sat as though his legs were cut from under him.

"Vince died, Theo, he _died!_"

Theo could only nod. It had come out in the _Prophet_ two days ago.

"I saw him… I keep seeing him going up, and we couldn't get him out, and my dad… what am I going to do?"

Theo felt at a loss. Greg's problems he couldn't even begin to tackle.

"Do you have any family?" He regretted the question as soon as it was out. His father's death was very fresh.

"Got an uncle," Greg said with an effort.

"Stick by Draco, doesn't he still owe you? Get him or his dad to recommend an advocate, then get your uncle to hire him. Just don't take any advocate the Ministry gives you, they're rubbish."

"Yeah."

"Now sod off, I've got to talk to my dad."

Greg got up. "You're going to see the House? Tell them not to forget about Vince. They _can't_ forget about Vince. He didn't kill himself. It wasn't like that; he was trying to get out."

Theo nodded again. The Auror escorted Greg out. It wasn't good delaying any longer; he had to talk to his dad.

They brought him in a few minutes later. He was drawn, but much more composed than Greg. Unlike Greg, he was in manacles, and the Auror attached them to a ring in the table before stepping back to the door. Theo tried not to look at his wrists.

"Hello dad."

His father regarded him silently for a moment.

"Theo. I didn't expect to see you."

Theo winced. His father always knew exactly what to say.

"Well, I'm here."

"Why? What is it you want from me?"

"Dad… did you see, or…?"

His father smiled. "Ah, of course. You're here for information. The Goyle boy already asked me; I suppose you put him up to it. The answer is _no_. I didn't see, touch, move or hide anyone's body anywhere, and I wouldn't have lowered myself to touch that traitor's corpse if I had seen it. And what would you care?"

Theo dropped his eyes.

"Never mind, I can guess. We all have our little roles to play, after all."

Theo felt his stomach drop, even with his father chained to the table. He couldn't know, could he? But the way his father was watching him, he did know, somehow, as if the question about the body alone had been enough to give him the answer about his loyalties.

His father went on. "You might be twice as sharp as you look, but you're still half as sharp as you think. Do you think he could do something for you? Raise you up somehow, out of your own insignificance? Is that what this stupid hope is about? Don't put your trust in that one. He used you, and what did you get out of it?"

"I'm out, aren't I? You're not."

His father smiled again. "There is that. But if things had gone another way, you could have been in a _very different position_. Think about that every time you think that he was doing you a favor. Very well, I'm done with you. Auror!" He half-stood, impatient to be gone as the Auror unfastened the manacles from the table and led him away.

It was his father's hands in the manacles, so why were his own hands shaking under the table?

* * *

Bulstrode surveyed the entrance hall. It was such a tip that it was hard to even think where to begin.

"- and why did they have to take Daph in?" asked Astoria. "I mean, they didn't want me and they said they're going by families."

"Stupid Ministry," declared Tracey and Blaise grunted in agreement. Bulstrode didn't say anything; she wasn't about to mention the card she had given Daphne. She still had two cards she needed to give out, and she wasn't sure where to start looking for the last two eyes. Fawcett wasn't in the entrance hall now, and she hadn't seen Stebbins at all.

"We could check the Pit for damage and start there," suggested Blaise.

"No, the whole point is to be _seen_ helping," said Tracey. "Isn't that right?"

Bulstrode nodded and started casting on the broken glass while she thought about her next move. She could either stay here working and hope that the last eyes might happen past or she could break protocol and go looking on her own. Breaking protocol was the much more appealing option. She waited until Blaise was occupied gathering the scattered House beads and Astoria and Tracey were maneuvering the stair rail back into position and slipped into the corridor.

She found Fawcett eventually in the great hall eating with some other Ravenclaws on a makeshift picnic blanket made of a torn tablecloth. The tables were all gone, but so were the bodies, Bulstrode noted with relief. She caught Fawcett's eye and jerked her chin up as she stepped back out into the hall.

Fawcett met her a few minutes later. Bulstrode had just passed the card and instructions to report to Shacklebolt when she turned to find Professor McGonagall standing with her arms folded, observing her. Damn, it must have been that cat trick.

"Miss Bulstrode, what was that?"

Bulstrode shrugged. "Found some paper with Fawcett's name on it in the entry. Giving it back, that's all."

"And what were you doing in the entry hall?"

"Cleaning up."

"Miss Bulstrode, I need to speak with you, now. Follow me."

They went all the way up to the top. The gargoyles were gone now, and the spiral stair had only been partially repaired; they had to walk up the last flight. The room was much the same as when Bulstrode had last seen it, at her last report to the Headmaster, except that his desk was entirely gone, along with the locked cabinet of all his books and papers. She wondered if the Ministry was now poring over every scrap looking for more hidden information.

With the most imposing furniture gone, Bulstrode and Professor McGonagall were left with the more egalitarian armchairs at the other end of the room. It was unfortunate for Professor McGonagall. Bulstrode noted that she had to sit bolt upright at the very edge of the chair to get any height of authority over her. Bulstrode decided not to play and slumped comfortably in her chair.

"Miss Bulstrode, how is it that Professor Snape saw fit to put critical information in the hands of a student?"

"Couldn't you just ask him, Professor?" Bulstrode gestured vaguely at the portraits at the other end of the room.

"I am asking _you_, Miss Bulstrode."

She was side-stepping the issue. No matter, they could come back to that.

"Unexpected. Safer."

"Safer to rely on _children?_"

And not her, Bulstrode supposed. Perhaps that was why she was so angry.

"Said that we could better keep the other students out of it unobserved. He knew who he could trust."

The last dig might have been unnecessary, but Professor McGonagall was holding something back and Bulstrode would rather just have it all out.

"He couldn't trust the staff?"

"Didn't mean that. He knew us pretty well, I guess. Knew we weren't all the same."

McGonagall's lips thinned. "Is there something you care to say to me, Miss Bulstrode?"

"Are you Headmistress now, Professor?"

"As I was Deputy Head previous to this year, I have taken that position until the Board of Governors can meet and decide on a course of action."

"Headmistress or three-quarters Headmistress?"

"The decisions I made while Hogwarts was under attack will not be questioned. Not by _you_, Miss Bulstrode, not when I did not have the benefit of all the information _you_ could have brought me!"

"Didn't have a chance, ma'am, got kicked out."

"I did not enjoy that, nor did I want to take that step. You may not believe me, but I did not think that most of your House deserved it. However, at that moment, I simply could not put the lives of the majority of students at risk for the good of a few. Do you understand me?"

"Sorry, but isn't that just what Pansy said?"

The older woman reddened. "That is not exactly what she said, Miss Bulstrode, as you know very well. There is a significant difference between removing students from where they might do harm or be harmed and intentionally sending a student to his death. No matter what the risk, I would _never_ do that."

"You're not like _him_, then, ma'am," Bulstrode said, tipping her head to the large portrait near where the desk once stood. "That's good."

"No, there are several ways in which I am not like him, you may be pleased to hear. Am I correct in thinking that you have something to do with the clean-up crews I've been seeing today?"

Bulstrode shrugged. "Just a suggestion."

"Not part of some long-range plan of yours?" Perhaps Professor McGonagall really did know the Slytherins, after all.

"Don't know who might come back next year. Depends on what the school will be like then."

"At this moment, Miss Bulstrode, none of us know that. Am I also correct that you are now the leader of Slytherin House and anything I say to you will be passed on to the rest of your House?"

"If you like, Professor."

"Are you the leader of Slytherin House or three-quarters leader? Will they follow you?"

Bulstrode gave a slight smile. If McGonagall knew the House that well, she should know that the leader couldn't be guaranteed to lead for long, if the House didn't want to follow.

"If I can show them the course of their best interests, they'll follow it."

Professor McGonagall studied her for a moment.

"I intend to be Headmistress of this school and not three-quarters Headmistress. You may tell them that. No one will be excluded from this school on the basis of their House. However, anyone who has taken the Mark or who has attacked any other student will be unable to return. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor."

"There will be no tolerance for violence or threatening language, and such actions from a student of any house will result in expulsion. Anyone who chooses to return must be on exemplary behavior at all times."

"Yes, ma'am. Some in the House will wonder about having to defend themselves."

"That, Miss Bulstrode, is a primary concern for myself as well. I do not wish any student to believe that they may have to defend themselves simply to attend this school. The staff and I will be discussing at length how to ensure the safety of our students. I cannot promise your House that their time here will be easy or that they will be welcomed by the other students. I can promise that I and the staff will be united in protecting their safety."

Bulstrode nodded slowly.

"You will pass on that message to your House?"

"Yes."

McGonagall stood. The interview was coming to an end, Bulstrode saw.

"Uh, Professor, may I speak to his portrait?"

A momentary flash of some pain crossed McGonagall's face. "Unfortunately, you cannot, Miss. Bulstrode. There isn't one."

Bulstrode took a few steps to the far end of the room to examine the portraits. The old Headmaster was apparently sleeping peacefully.

"They say it is some sort of technicality in that I had already begun exercising my duties as Deputy Headmistress at the time of… at the time."

"Is that so?" Bulstrode said in the direction of Dumbledore's portrait. "Interesting." It was interesting; she had never seen anyone wink in their sleep before. Well, maybe that settled it.

She turned and headed back to the door that the Headmistress was holding open for her.

"Miss Bulstrode, there are many things over the past year… several years, that we may have cause to regret. I believe it is the best course for all of us to put the past behind us as quickly as possible and concentrate on moving forward. Will you be pursuing the same course?"

"Yes, Professor."

* * *

The meeting was drawing to a close. Bulstrode had already given them McGonagall's speech. There hadn't been much verbal response beyond Harper's "nice _words._" Well, there wasn't much to do about it at this point but wait and see.

Baby had presented her findings along with a red couch cushion as trophy and proof of her illicit entry into Gryffindor tower. This was met with glares of jealous admiration from the rest of the first-years, then solemnly burned in the hearth.

Theo's report from Greg was met with a long silence. No one wanted to think about what happened to Vince. It was too awful, particularly with the stench of burnt couch cushion lingering in the air. Even if it brought the meeting to a halt, Bulstrode should be thankful that Theo brought up that point. If she wanted to set the House on a new course, there couldn't be a better example of where the old course had taken them.

Bulstrode herself had no evidence to offer. What was a wink, after all? If it even was a wink and not some muscle twitching in sleep. It didn't matter much, one way or another, and it didn't change what she knew. It wouldn't change any other minds either. If they didn't think they knew already, they wouldn't know it from that. It was time, as McGonagall had said, to move forward.

"I propose the motion: as all evidence in this matter is inconclusive, we will consider the case closed and not mention any part of this case or its evidence outside the honorable members of the House."

"Seconded," said Theo.

She saw the smiles then, spreading through the tattered remains of the House. They had their secret.

"All those in favor?"

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading, and thanks to my wonderful reviewers! I love to hear what you think. A very special thank you to Robert's Rules of Order.


End file.
